Words, Chivalry Seldom Needs
by Fiercest
Summary: "Then I must ask you Madam, am I the last man in the world you could ever be prevailed upon to marry… or the next to last?" When Mr. Bennet dies unexpectedly, Darcy is pushed into action.


Words, Chivalry Seldom Needs

Summary: _"Then I must ask you Madam, am I the last man in the world you could ever be prevailed upon to marry… or the next to last?"_ When Mr. Bennet dies unexpectedly, Darcy is pushed into action.

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It was a gray morning in Hertfordshire when the fate of the Bennet family changed forever.

Elizabeth Bennet sat on a stump atop Oakam Mount, escaping Longbourn for a spell—escaping England, across the ocean, through the portal a book presents. It had long been her habit to walk out before breakfast, but her sister's illness and their stay at Netherfield had prevented it for several days hence. Her solace in the snake pit of the Netherfield drawing room had been reading. It felt wonderful now, to read without the feeling of eyes upon her, the judgement of her audience, rudely undisguised.

 _Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy can now titter away in peace_ , thought Elizabeth with satisfaction, _without a country hoyden to scandalize their fashionable sensibilities._

Her concentration shattered at the sound of hoof beats. It seemed to her that the sound shook the morning dew from the grass. She knew it to be an ill omen, but knew not why.

It was strange to see Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley come up over the crest of the hill.

Darcy reached her first, having galloped at an alarming speed. He circled her in an attempt to slow. The expression on his face did not make her easy.

"Good morning Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley," for him, she called out, so he may hear her from where he lagged behind. "To what do I owe the pleasure of running into you this fine morning?" Her false obsequiousness could not usually fail to make an audience laugh, but they continued to appear very solemn. Even Mr. Bingley, whose general air was of a pleasant and jovial nature, looked pale.

"We have just been to Longbourn and were charged with fetching you. You must return with us immediately," Bingley told her, pity in his eyes.

"What has happened?" Elizabeth demanded, "You must tell me, please."

He could not. Bingley stumbled on his words, stammering and correcting himself before more anything could be properly understood. It was Mr. Darcy who dismounted and bravely faced her to deliver the news, hat in hand.

"Is it Jane? Mama?" He hesitated here, the wool felt of his hat crumpling in his grip. "Please," she implored again, "Tell me now, I cannot stand it."

"It is your father-"

"Dear god, no…"

"I am so very sorry Miss Elizabeth, he was a good man. It was very sudden."

"But he wasn't even ill!" she cried.

He looked distinctly uncomfortable. Mr. Bingley did not appear to know what to do either. "Sometimes it happens that way," they exchanged a glance. "Please allow us to escort you home." Here, Mr. Darcy did something very forward; he took her hand in his and pressed it.

Elizabeth shivered. She had removed her gloves to better turn the pages of her book. Though he was wearing riding gloves, her palms were bare. They remained so for a moment.

"If there is anything that may be done for your family, I implore you to consider your friends."

Elizabeth could not help it, a panicked laugh escaped through her tears. "Are we friends Mr. Darcy?"

He hesitated again, "If we are not, it is my fond wish that we become so." He offered his arm, so they may begin the trek down the mount, his steed trailing behind. It would be improper for her to share his saddle.

Despite the pain in her heart, the chambers collapsing in on themselves, she found herself enjoying the ridiculousness of the situation. Her father would have liked this story, had she the opportunity to tell it to him. "Thank you Mr. Darcy," she said, tears of mirth and mourning, mingling "For as you know, I dearly love to laugh."

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Elizabeth and her two escorts arrived at Longbourn to find it in a most unsettling state; quiet and still. Tom took her cloak and bonnet, in addition to the gentlemen's coats and hats, a sincere expression of condolence on his face.

She ran to the drawing room, where she was sure her family gathered. Inside, were three of her sisters. Mary sat beside Kitty on the chaise. They stared straight ahead but their hands were linked on the cushion between them. Jane, who sat in a chair across from them, jumped to her feet. Elizabeth rushed to her embrace, already overflowing with questions. "What happened? Where are Mama and Lydia?"

"Oh Lizzy," said Jane, "I'm so glad you're here. Lydia is upstairs with Mama, she is beside herself. It was terrible! Papa did not come downstairs at his usual hour, so Mama sent Tom to his room-" as she spoke, she grew more and more hysterical.

"Miss Bennet," Mr. Bingley interceded, "Perhaps you should take a seat."

Elizabeth had quite forgotten he was there.

He pressed a handkerchief into Jane's hands. She smiled gratefully but declined his offer to sit. "I cannot be still, I know not what to do with myself. Thank God, Papa felt no pain. It happened in his sleep. Dr. Howard is with him now."

"In his sleep…" Elizabeth whispered. She suddenly couldn't feel her legs. She wanted to cry out, to warn that she was about to fall, but found that she couldn't. Her back hit something warm, bare hands caught her shoulders.

Mr. Darcy had appeared behind her, just in time. "Bingley, fetch Miss Elizabeth something to drink," he ordered, a note of alarm in his voice. "Are you quite alright madam? Please, sit."

"I… I cannot. I must see him. Please, I need to see him _right now_."

"Lizzy please!" Jane pleaded, "See reason."

"What reason is there in this? How can this be? He was healthy! And young yet."

"These things happen."

"But _why?"_

In that moment, she realized that Darcy still held her, this time she could feel the roughness of his bare fingertips against her arms. She took a step away and his arms dropped to his sides. He cleared his throat and looked to the fire in the grate.

A quiet voice from the chaise permeated Elizabeth's grief. "What will become of us?" asked Kitty.

Mary squeezed her hand tighter. "We must seek guidance from the Lord and pray for Papa's safe passage to his side."

"…Thank you Mary." In her own way, Elizabeth supposed, she was trying to be comforting. "Has someone written to Uncle Gardiner? Shall I walk to Meryton to fetch Aunt Phillips for Mama?" She had little idea what was to be done in the event of a death in the family.

"I had not yet thought to," Jane admitted.

"I shall write and go to town to send them an express at once. All will be well Jane."

"Mama was shouting before," Jane glanced momentarily at the gentlemen, "About the entail and what we shall do. She fears we will all be thrown to the hedgerows."

"We will worry about that when the time comes. For now, we must keep our heads."

"Oh Lizzy, how brave you are."

"No Jane, only foolish. Too foolish to worry yet, too panicked to feel despair." This was said quietly, for her sister's ears alone.

Bingley, who had been anxiously rocking on his feet, felt compelled to be of use. "Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, please allow me to go to town to send your express."

Jane blushed prettily, "We are in your debt Mr. Bingley, you have been so kind."

"It is no less than your due."

 _What can he mean?_ Elizabeth thought to herself, as a private joke. It was easier to turn to humor than to face the insurmountable wave of grief that was coming for her, pulling like the tides, ready to sweep her out into an ocean she'd never seen.

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Darcy watched Elizabeth as she wrote her letter. She was so composed, so resilient. He knew very well, the grief she must be feeling, for it was not long since the death of his own father. He knew them to be close.

He also had it from Caroline Bingley (and confirmed by Jane Bennet's whispered worries) that the estate was entailed away from the female line. The Bennets were facing homelessness and a loss in status, in addition to the very dear loss of a most beloved parent. He felt for them and was moved.

He envied Bingley, so able to express himself and his condolences—so ready to be at their service.

Nothing was expected of him, but he wanted to be of use to _her_. It mattered not how well she was faring now. The first rush would end, denial would fade and she would be made to feel her pain. Darcy desperately wanted to comfort her, but his fears of giving rise to expectations held him back.

What's worse, she was too good to expect anything. Elizabeth Bennet was singular in that she had no pretentions or aspirations towards joining the beau monde. She knew the vast difference in their stations and had avoided encouraging an attachment she knew could never come to fruition. Looking at her, the strong sureness of her hand as she wrote her letter, her unbowed shoulders in the face of adversity, her fine eyes narrowed in determination and focus; he could not quite remember why that was.

Elizabeth Bennet was a pillar of strength for her family. She loved with unparalleled fierceness and loyalty. So strong was her love, that a loss as great as this could not break her. However, he did pity her. For who did she have to lean on, as her sisters and mother looked to her?

Soon, her letter was finished and Bingley clasped it to his chest, promising her with a greatness of feeling that he would ensure it was sent with haste.

"We will leave you now," said Darcy, for he could see that Bingley was dallying, looking not at Elizabeth, but Miss Jane Bennet. "Good day to you all. Our condolences in this difficult time."

"Thank you Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied, with a curtsy. Her sisters stood and in a soft chorus, repeated the sentiment.

Something swelled in his breast, so large he felt like he would burst, or like he could run a mile. He nodded and fled, for he was starting to realize that it was not mere admiration he felt for Elizabeth Bennet. It was the beginning of something more that could never be.

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The next several days at Longbourn were a trial for everyone. Mrs. Bennet's faint turned to panic, which rattled the windows in its hysterical loudness. Mrs. Hill tried to tend to her as much as she could. The sisters took turns sitting by her bedside, until eventually she wanted a change of scenery and turned to having her fits in the drawing room.

She wished to hold court with the neighborhood women, which Jane and Elizabeth vehemently argued against. They were thankfully able to convince her of the impropriety of such an action. Meanwhile, Lydia and Kitty complained bitterly at being kept indoors and away from the officers. Mary took to loudly and badly playing dirges. There was no escape and Elizabeth felt sure that she would soon lose her senses.

Luckily, the Gardiners arrived quickly.

On the morning of their arrival, their Aunt inquired after Elizabeth's state of mind. "You are handling this remarkably well my dear."

"I suppose," Elizabeth allowed. The truth was, that she felt nothing, not since she heard the news. Her heart was a tightly closed fist. It would not loosen for anything. She knew the pain would come, she hoped not soon. She hoped not ever, while at once wishing desperately that she could feel it now. It felt _wrong_ to be unable to mourn her father properly. It did not yet feel real. A heart seizure had taken her father from them while he slept, these were the facts, but Elizabeth could not face it. He did not feel gone to her, only missing.


End file.
